


save the last dance

by Nabielka



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabielka/pseuds/Nabielka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cor dances, Aravis helps out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save the last dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ViaLethe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/gifts).



> Written for NFE 2013.

For all the fear which Corin had managed to spark in him about the effects of Education, Cor had taken to his schooling with relative ease. But the past few years as Crown Prince had not made official balls any easier to navigate. 

In lieu of talking to his temporary partner, he was concentrating on the steps of the dance, being still awkward on his feet in such a setting, though as nimble on boats as any fisherman’s real son could ever be. Besides, though he knew it to be rather rude, such conversations tended to end up stilted and awkward, not like with Aravis, who managed to make even a commonplace remark witty and charming. 

At the thought of her, he smiled, and his partner, encouraged by the sudden warmth in his face, said, "How resilient Your Highness must be, to endure such weather with nary a complaint." 

Cor blinked, stepped a little too far to the left, almost pulling her along, and said, "Not really. Calormen gets much hotter." _In the winter_ , he refrained from adding, thinking of the Ki – his father’s disappointed face, and the way his voice would quiet. Besides, he was not Aravis, who could have said something like that and made it seem informative rather than insulting. 

He took a step back and raised their joint hands, letting the governor’s daughter twirl, and took the opportunity of her brief inattention to look for Aravis. Too soon though, she was turning back towards him, and he hurriedly turned his head to look straight at her. Instead, he tried to step not quite evenly but at an angle, so that they were forced to turn a little and his search could continue. 

She was smiling a little, uncertainly, as though she had anticipated agreement. "But it must have been much cooler in Narnia. Your Highness adapts so well." 

Cor frowned. "I have not been to Narnia since last year’s Midsummer Fair, my lady." 

She did not flush, but her smile did soften a little, beginning to reach her eyes. He had not realised how stiff she had been until then. "My apologies, Your Highness, I took you for your brother. How go the tax avoidance proceedings?" 

Thrown by her abrupt change in manner, he hesitated, scrambling for words, and something of his shock must have shown in his face, for she laughed, and said, "I do try to keep up with current affairs." 

She tilted her chin up a little as though she expected him to comment on it, and there was something in her face that was so much like Aravis that he felt his heart clench, though Lady Isolde was as fair and blonde as most in Archenland. 

"Well, Lord Darrin’s estates near the borders have been confiscated to prevent him from smuggling, and soldiers set to watch him, for we cannot ban him from moving through his own lands else his friends on the Council are arguing for clemency." 

Lady Isolde’s smile curled a little, contemptuously. "Oh, I do believe that Your Highness shall find most of them have been less than fully obedient to His Majesty’s laws, albeit a little more circumspect about it." She leaned in a little, her breasts brushing against him, so that her mouth was near Cor’s ear. "Even, I suspect, those in positions very close to the King himself. Also, I believe the Lady Aravis to be over to the left by one of the pillars." Then she leaned back, and twirled obediently, as though she had not said anything at all. 

Cor looked over to where she had indicated, half despite himself, and indeed there she was, dark and bright against the marble, and to look at her made him wonder how he could not have seen her at once, for having done so, it was a trial to tear his eyes away back to the Lady Isolde. Once he had managed, however, there was a knowing look on her face, and Cor felt himself flush a little. "I am sorry." 

"Not at all," she replied. "Now, I believe the dance is near ending, and it would be terribly bad manners for Your Highness to walk past quite so many ladies in search of your next partner." 

He laughed, despite himself, and then steered her slowly, step by step, making sure to twirl her occasionally to make it less obvious, to where Aravis was standing, champagne flute in one hand. 

And then he had no eyes for Lady Isolde, no care whether she curtseyed or even inclined her head, for Aravis was smiling, and laying her glass aside on a platter, even as Cor bowed to her, a little deeper than necessary, as he had taken to doing since he had noticed how many nobles did not bow quite deeply enough. He did not even need to ask for her hand in the dance, for as he straightened and opened his mouth, she extended it of her own accord, and took his hand. 

Then the music changed, and Cor squeezed her hand and halted, Aravis turning back to him to avoid dragging him along. 

"I don’t know this dance," he hissed, so that the others would not hear, for being a prince and an heir at that, he ought to. All others here, even the very minor nobles, seemed to know each volta and quadrille, and only he blundered his way through steps everybody else had known since infancy. 

Aravis raised an eyebrow, and for a second he worried that she would remark upon it, the way Corin might have done, but all she said was, "But I do. I shall lead, and you will follow, and it will be fine." 

And so they did, to more glances and murmurs than Cor thought usual, but then he had not been at a court gathering for a while; he may have played them down in his memories. 

"Not as bad as you thought?" she asked after a short time. 

"Oh, I rather expected you to be good at it," he said, flushing, for Aravis was good at very many things. 

Aravis tilted her head a little, and looked closely at him, and Cor’s blush only deepened. Finally, she said, "Something’s bothering you." 

Cor hesitated, stepping a little closer so that he could lower his voice. "I was talking with Lady Isolde about the tax fraud. She said," He could smell her perfume, almost count her eyelashes, dark as charcoal, distracting, "that some close to the crown were doing the same." 

"Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised. For all his later official denials, the Tisroc knew about Rabadash’s plan, so to hear is," she added, a wry twist to her mouth, "no longer to obey." 

"But I don’t understand why she was saying it in the first place, if it’s so obvious. And her father is a governor, and therefore in a position of substantial power. So do you think that she was protecting herself, in case it turns out that he too has been less than honest?" 

Aravis smiled, humourlessly. "Perhaps. But governorships are usually hereditary." 

Cor blinked, and tried to wrap his mind around it. He had loved the fisherman his supposed father, though he had been a hard man, until the threat of slavery had hung, ready to fall, over his neck like a sword. And he was growing to love Corin and the king his father, growing more comfortable and familiar with them every day, and Aravis especially, who would always understand more than them. 

He, who had lost a family twice and gained them as many times, could never have brought himself to betray them thus. 

"Yes," said Aravis, who tended to read him well, “not an especially loyal daughter. But these are the games of power, Shasta, and they require more from women than from men, and more again the greater the stakes. There are very few people you can trust." And she looked at him very intently, the sclera of her eyes a shock in her face. "Remember that when you are king."


End file.
